“We should take the fast train,” Essie said. “They’re great—they have movies and cafés and shops—”
“Oh no, it’s way too expensive,” Annalie said.
“It can’t be that expensive,” Essie began, using her shell to look up the ticket prices. “Oh. That can’t be right, can it?”
“Here, we’ll try and get on that one.” Annalie pointed: one of the cheap express services was leaving for Port Fine in less than half an hour. They hurried over to the ticket counter, bought tickets, and made their way through the maze of the station to the platform.
It was already busy with yawning workers, eager travelers, laborers, sailors, craftspeople. There were even a few Admiralty uniforms scattered among the crowd.
The train pulled in, a long chain of clanking metal boxes, with glassless grilles instead of windows and stern injunctions warning people not to ride on top of the carriages. The other passengers started surging on but Essie didn’t move. “Are you serious?”
“We won’t be on it for long,” said Annalie. “Come on, or we won’t get a spot.”
There were no seats inside the carriages and the passengers competed to find room for themselves and their boxes, bags, and equipment. One man fought his way onto the train with a pedicab that barely fit through the door; another hauled cages filled with ducks. Annalie found them a spot to stand near a window, made sure she had something to hang onto, and then stuck there, glaring malevolently at anyone who tried to push them out of the way. The carriage grew fuller and fuller; there were angry words exchanged in the doorways; on the platform, a whistle blew. Then, with a lurch, the train pulled out of the station.
They clanked slowly through rail yards filled with sheds and freight trains. They passed under a bridge and heard a series of thuds and clatters overhead. Essie gave a little shriek. “What was that?” she asked.
“People who can’t afford the fares jump onto the outside of the trains and ride on the roof.”
Essie looked appalled. “Isn’t that dangerous?”
“Yep,” Annalie said.
The girls gazed out the window, watching as the unlovely backs of buildings whizzed by. The train was fast, and noisy, and every time it went around a corner the whole carriage bucked, and everyone staggered and fell over.
Annalie remembered the first (and only) time she’d taken this trip. Then, sitting beside Spinner on an old slow-moving train, she’d been both nervous and eager. Spinner had been full of encouragement about all the great things she’d be able to see and learn and do at school. He’d talked about museums and art galleries and symphony orchestras, science labs and libraries filled with great books and the world’s knowledge. “You’re going to love it,” he’d said, smiling in eager anticipation. It had been their last day together. She wondered if she was ever going to see him again.
The train roared and rattled through industrial areas, past shops and houses, and then out into the country. It raced through farmland, past vast rows of wind turbines and the nuclear power station that fed the city. It roared through smaller towns without stopping, some of them living towns, others abandoned for no obvious reason.
The trip took nearly two hours (traveling the other way, it had taken six). The lurching, bone-jarring journey took its toll; Essie, tired by the early start, had to sit down after the first half hour, scrunched up next to her bag. Annalie soon sat down beside her, and unable to see out the window, she began to feel a bit travel-sick (to her own disgust—she never suffered from seasickness).
At last, the train’s breakneck pace started to slow. The people in the carriage seemed to wake from their traveling daze and look out the windows. There was an outbreak of noise overhead, and Essie and Annalie scrambled to their feet, struggling against pins and needles, to look out the window. People were dropping off the tops and sides of the carriages and hurrying off out of sight. Annalie knew people were forever getting hit by trains and hurt on the tracks here, but it didn’t seem to stop them.
The train was moving through the new part of Port Fine. “So is this where you live?” Essie asked, watching the townscape go by. “It’s actually sort of nice.”
“This is the nice part,” Annalie said. “It isn’t where I live.”
The train pulled into the station and the girls emerged with all the other passengers into the chaos of the morning. Annalie shook herself, surprised by how relieved she felt to be here.
She whipped her shell out and sent Janky a message: Tell Will I’m home.
Lowtown
Essie and Annalie walked through the streets of Port Fine. Essie wasn’t used to walking long distances and her feet were soon aching, but she didn’t want to complain in front of Annalie, who had the look of someone who’d happily walk all day.
Port Fine was a smaller city than Pallas, but it also felt more chaotic, the streets choked with traffic. Everything here seemed very new, as if the buildings had been put up quickly and cheaply, with no attention paid to decoration. There were no green spaces and no trees, although a few shopping strips cheered things up, and the people seemed busy and prosperous.
People do go on about the slums, Essie thought, feeling rather superior, but they’re really not that bad.
After they’d been walking for about three quarters of an hour they reached a quite distinct line. The line was a busy road. On the side where they were standing, the streets were smoothly paved, there were streetlights, and all the shops and houses and businesses had power. On the other side was a very different kind of town.
Annalie checked this way, that way, and then darted out into the traffic. Essie scurried in her wake.
“This is where I live,” Annalie said with a grin when they reached the other side.
“I never thought it would be so...abrupt,” Essie said.
“The emergency government drew a line on a map. Everything on this side was abandoned.”
Their progress grew slower now. The roads here were potholed and eroded. In places they had vanished entirely, collapsing into the holes left by damaged infrastructure (burst drains, abandoned metro tunnels) underneath. There were still shops and houses and businesses, but they didn’t have centralized power. Wind turbines and solar panels bristled from roofs, wrapped in razor wire to protect them from theft. For every building that was occupied, there were two or three more sliding into dereliction, stripped of everything salable, from taps and doors to electrical wiring, leaving only the rotting shell behind. And even after all this time, you could still see the murky tidemark left by the Flood.
This part of town was just as busy as the new part. There were no electric cars or trucks here; pedicabs—push-bikes with two-wheeled carriages hooked on the back, propelled by wiry men with enormous leg muscles—and handcarts moved people and goods back and forth over rickety-looking boards that covered the worst of the holes. Everywhere, there were things for sale: little stalls sold old clothes, second-hand kitchen implements, reconditioned toys, and lots and lots of outdated tech. People cooked over braziers by the side of the road. Tea was doled out from little carts.
After they had walked another twenty minutes, people started to recognize Annalie.
A woman standing in an empty lot with two goats called out to them. “What you doing back here, girl? Aren’t you meant to be at school?”
A few minutes later, a boy on a pedicab cruised past. “Hey Annalie, they kick you out already?”
By now Essie’s feet were killing her and she was sure she was getting a blister. “Is it much further?” she asked.
“We’re nearly there.”
They walked on, and soon they came to what looked to Essie like an old tin shed.
Annalie hurried toward it, a look of fierce excitement on her face. But then they stepped inside.
“Oh no...” Annalie whispered.
The place looked like a bomb had gone off inside
it.
Footsteps crunched over broken things, and they saw a dark shape loom up from the back of the shop.
“What are you doing here?”
Bike boy
“I thought you were going to stay at school.”
A boy stepped into the light that filtered down from a skylight overhead. He was not overly tall for his age, with a square face and a pugnacious air and the same dark eyes as his sister.
“I had to come and see things for myself,” said Annalie.
Will flicked a look at Essie. “Who’s this?”
“My friend, Essie.” Then she said to Essie, “This is my twin brother, Will.”
“Hi,” Essie said. “I’ve never met someone’s twin before.”
“Uh-huh,” Will said, barely acknowledging her before turning back to Annalie. “I told you, I’ve got everything under control. What’re you doing here?”
“I thought about it, and I think I need to be here,” Annalie said, with a trace of impatience.
“Does your school know you’re here?”
“They’ve probably noticed we’re missing by now,” Essie said, exchanging a smile with Annalie, although privately she felt a little sting of anxiety. This was the naughtiest thing she’d ever done, although that wasn’t saying very much.
“Won’t you get in trouble for running away?” Will said. “Or, what do they call it, going AWOL?”
“Probably,” Annalie said. “But this seemed more important.”
There was something combative about the way that Will spoke to Annalie that set Essie on edge. She had no brothers or sisters of her own, so she had no real point of reference, but she’d half-expected them to seem pleased to see each other after nearly a term apart. In fact, Will seemed more than a little annoyed to find Annalie here. Not that Annalie was rushing to give her brother a welcoming hug either. Essie wasn’t sure what to make of it.
“Did you find out any more from Graham?” Annalie asked.
“Nah, it’s pointless. He doesn’t know anything.”
Annalie narrowed her eyes skeptically, then gave a whistling call. After a moment they heard a rustle of wings and Graham came flying in.
“Allie! Allie! You came back!” squawked the parrot. He landed on her shoulder and began rubbing her face ecstatically with his beak.
“It’s good to see you too, Graham. Hey listen, we need to try and find Spinner.”
“Spinner lost,” Graham said mournfully.
“I know. But you were with him, right, when Spinner got lost?”
Graham squawked affirmatively.
“Where did he take you?”
“I’ve been through all this,” Will said. “He said they went to a noisy house and there was a cat.”
“How did you get to the noisy house, Graham? Did you walk?”
“Bike boy took,” Graham said.
“You mean Truman? The man who drives the pedicab?”
“Bike boy,” Graham agreed, bobbing.
“You never told me that,” Will said huffily.
Graham whistled at him rudely.
Annalie turned to her brother. “We need to find Truman.”
The noisy house
Truman lived with his old dad in half a house not far from Spinner’s workshop. Annalie didn’t really expect to find Truman at home when they went and knocked on his door—he worked long hours on his pedicab, mostly on the new side of town.
Truman’s dad, who was known as Old Truman, opened the door. It took him a moment to recognize them, but when he did his eyes widened and he beckoned the three of them urgently inside. Annalie had never been inside the house before. It smelled of salt and mildew.
“You shouldn’t have come back here,” Old Truman told her. “It’s not safe for you.”
“Why not?” asked Annalie.
“Didn’t you hear? They come for your dad.”
“That’s why I came back. We have to find him.”
“You won’t,” Old Truman said decisively. “Better get yourself on back to school, quick smart.”
“But I can’t,” Annalie said. “The people who are after Dad came after me too. I’m not safe at school now.”
Old Truman frowned at this.
“Truman came round to warn me and Dad and help him get away,” Will explained. “We just want to know where they went next.”
“You’d have to ask him that,” Old Truman said, “but you can’t.”
“Why not?”
“He’s gone away for a while.”
“Gone where? For how long?”
“Couldn’t rightly say,” Old Truman said.
Annalie tried to read him. “He’s gone until the heat dies down?”
Old Truman tilted his head, as if the answer was yes but he didn’t want to say so directly.
“If you know anything, anything at all, please tell us,” Annalie said. “We just want to find Spinner.”
“Now, don’t take this the wrong way,” Old Truman said, “but it sounds to me like your daddy’s in a whole lot of trouble, and the last thing he needs to be worrying about is you two kids. If you want to help him, the very best thing you can do is go back to that school of yours and make them take care of you.”
“But—” Annalie began.
“You’re Admiralty now,” Old Truman said. “You passed their test, you’re one of theirs. That can be a bad thing, but it can also be good. Make them protect you. They can do it. Because no one else can.”
“I’m not Admiralty!” Annalie protested.
Will gave a little skeptical snort beside her.
“Isn’t that what your daddy wanted for you?” Old Truman said. “Be careful picking sides, girlie. Some choices, once they’re made, they can never be unmade.”
It was the same argument Spinner had made; disturbed, Annalie fell silent.
“I don’t have a fancy school to go to,” Will said. “What should I do?”
“Do what your father told you to do. Keep your head down and don’t be an idiot,” Old Truman said.
“Can you at least tell us where the noisy house is?”
Old Truman looked baffled. “The noisy house?”
“Dad’s parrot said that’s where they went.”
Old Truman could see how determined she was. He sighed, then said, “I don’t hear so good anymore. I don’t like going to noisy places. The Crown and Anchor for example—that’s a very noisy house. I never go anywhere near it.”
The Crown and Anchor was a pub in the Eddy with a fairly alarming reputation. “Thank you, Mr. Truman!” Annalie said, already turning for the door.
“Think about what I said,” Old Truman called after her. “Your daddy may not thank you for coming after him. Go back to school while you still can.”
“I’ll think about it,” she said, bursting out into the sunlight and immediately dismissing the advice.
“The Crown and Anchor?” asked Will.
“You got it,” said Annalie.
At the Crown and Anchor
The Crown and Anchor was an old sailor’s pub with a rough reputation. It had tiled floors and tiled walls, so that every day after closing they could hose away all the spilt beer.
Even at eleven o’clock in the morning the crowd in there was loud and rough. Annalie and Will stood outside the door and argued.
“Leave this one to me,” Will said.
“I’m coming too,” Annalie said.
“This is no place for a girl.”
“No place for a boy either.”
Will scowled at Annalie; Annalie glared back. Really she would rather not go in; but if the answers they needed were in there, then she had no choice.
Essie intervened. “Either we all go in, or none of us do. Safety in numbers.”
This broke the deadlock. �
�Okay,” Annalie said. “You take the left side, Will. We’ll take the right.”
She pushed open the door and walked in, Essie so close behind her she was almost treading on her heels.
The room smelled strongly of beer and tobacco smoke and man-sweat, and the voices had that loud, loose, raucous sound that signalled danger, even as they laughed. Heads turned to look at the girls as they moved deeper into the room.
“What have we here?”
“Looking for someone, little girl?”
Although Annalie’s knees were shaking, she ignored them and kept walking toward the bar.
The man behind her end of the bar was covered in tattoos that wound up his arms, under his shirtsleeves, and emerged onto his face, giving his skin a murky cast. He glanced her way as he moved back and forth pouring beers—it was a busy morning—and said, “You shouldn’t be in here.”
“I was hoping you could help me,” Annalie said.
“I’ll help you, love,” a man standing at the bar said, and his friends chortled.
“I’m trying to find my dad. Spinner. Do you know him?”
“Never heard of him,” the bartender said automatically.
“He moors his boat here in the Eddy. The Sunfish.”
“The Sunfish?” repeated someone.
Annalie turned to the man eagerly. “Yes. Do you know him?”
The man’s eyes were bloodshot as he stared at Annalie. “Nope.” He laughed, as if this was absolutely hilarious.
Annalie turned back to the bartender, growing desperate. “My dad was in here a few nights ago, with Truman the pedicab rider. He had a parrot with him—it got chased by your cat. Don’t you remember him?”
“I don’t work nights,” the bartender said flatly. “Now piss off.”
“Please—” Annalie said, but then she felt a hand grip her arm.
“You heard the man. Time to piss off.” An unfriendly looking man was glaring at her, his hand gripping her arm so tightly there was no hope of escape. Her eyes took in his fancy waistcoat, his crumpled hat, the colors he was wearing threaded around his arm. He was from the Kang brotherhood. Her heart began to pound with fear. “Come out the back way,” he said.
The Flooded Earth Page 6
